


Shelter From the Mire of Life

by DaisyMayHoward



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bullying, First Time, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyMayHoward/pseuds/DaisyMayHoward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry knows people bully his brother Marcel, but he can't do much to stop it. Instead, he'll have to show Marcel just how important he is to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter From the Mire of Life

**Author's Note:**

> So... I wrote this because someone I follow on twitter demanded fic about Harry and Marcel being brothers and other stuff.  
> She's really picky about what she reads. REALLY picky. So. I hope she likes this, even though it ended up with lots of feelings.  
> I hope anyone else who reads it likes it too. If you don't, please don't say so. I don't take criticism well. That's probably why I haven't posted any stories online before this.  
> Title is from Anberlin's "Safe Here".

In all his years of being Harry’s brother, Marcel had never seen him quite this angry.

“I can’t believe those bastards! I’ll kill them, I swear.” Harry kept on ranting, ignoring Marcel’s attempts to get his attention. He raised his voice a bit louder (“Harry!”) and his brother finally shut his mouth for a second.

“Harry, it’s okay. They didn’t mean anything by it.” Marcel attempted to calm Harry down, but it seemed that his comment only made him more outraged.

“Didn’t mean anything- Marcel, they were bullying you! It’s not right! They’re just jealous that they aren’t as smart as you. You shouldn’t let them push you around like that.” After this final rant, Harry looked exhausted. Marcel led him to his bed, sat him down, and told him to get some rest.

“You need to sleep. You look exhausted, and you have that test tomorrow.” Marcel said quietly. Harry sighed and flopped down on the bed.

“You’re right. But we’re not done talking about his, okay?” He looked so tired and worn out that Marcel couldn’t refuse. He never could refuse his brother anyway.

“Alright,” he nodded, “now go to sleep.” As Harry went about doing just that, Marcel turned off the overhead light, turned on his lamp, and got on his bed. He took out his latest book ( _Crime and Punishment_ , which was exciting in the beginning but rather obnoxious after the protagonist actually killed the woman; he just wouldn’t stop rambling about it to himself). However, he found himself unable to concentrate hard enough. He carefully placed his bookmark in it and placed it on his bedside table. He sighed quietly, trying not to wake up his now-sleeping brother.

He hadn’t known Harry would be so affected by the teasing; it wasn’t directed toward him, why did it matter? Marcel was used to people bullying him, that’s just how life is for anyone with an above average IQ and no sense of fashion. He had built up something of an immunity to it in middle school. After several horrible incidents, and harsh words spoken, he decided that he needed to accept that this would always happen to him.

When people bullied him now, he just let it roll off of him. Mostly he tried not to think about it. But it was time for bed now, and he needed to sleep or he would be too tired to stay awake in class, no matter how interesting he finds the subjects.

-

Marcel woke up to the oh-so-lovely sounds of his brother huffing about the room, looking for his favorite (and desperately in need of some patching) shirt.

“You alright?” He asked his brother this while he was yawning, and Harry looked at him in confusion for a moment before he seemed to translate what Marcel had said.

“I’m okay, it’s you that’s not, you need to get up or we’ll be late. I thought you had already gotten up, but you’re even more invisible under your huge blanket than I thought was possible. We have 10 minutes before we have to leave.” Harry found his shirt. “Ha!” He threw Marcel’s clothes to him (Marcel had a sad but ultimately helpful habit of laying out his outfits the night before).

“I won’t have time to put my hair back!” Harry snorted at him.

“You look better without all that stuff in your hair anyway, Marcel.” He looked at Marcel, taking in his sleep-rumpled hair, blushed slightly (which seemed a bit odd to Marcel), and turned away. “Now get up!”

Marcel went about getting up and ready, and he attempted to comb his hair back a bit to make it neater, but it didn’t help much. They were out the door on time, and made it school without any hassle.

-

After school, Marcel had to wait around for Harry to be done with his club meeting. He didn’t mind waiting. He knew Harry needed to have a lot of extracurricular activities to beef up his college application. Harry was smart, but not exceptionally so. Marcel had perfect grades, though, and he hoped that that would be enough to help him get into college, because he didn’t like the hassle of dealing with _people_ that came with being in a club.

He had tried to join a club his freshman year ( _because it certainly couldn’t hurt, could it?_ ) but being around humans was exhausting. Going to class was bad enough.

He sat down in the hallway near Harry’s meeting and took out his book. Dostoyevsky was getting a bit old, but he wanted to finish the book anyway. He had only gotten a couple paragraphs in when a group of boys came around the corner and started snickering to each other.

“Hey look, it’s Marcie!”

“What’s that you’re reading? Some fancy book?”

“Ooh, you think you’re better than the rest of us, nerd?”

Marcel pointedly ignored them, hoping that would make them go away and let him read in peace. Sadly, it did not work.

“Hey, geek, we’re talking to you!” One of them kicked him. Not hard enough to make him react, but it would definitely bruise. Another one of them grabbed his book and threw it against the wall. Now Marcel stood up.

“That’s a library book,” he stated quietly, and made to go and pick it up. One of his aggressors grabbed his arm hard and shoved him up against the wall. His head made contact, and it hurt rather a lot. He sighed. “Can you please let me go?”

“Why? So you can go back to reading and feeling all self-important? No! You need to be taught a lesson. You’re no better than the rest of us.” He sneered, a great ugly twisting of his mouth. “Repeat after me; I’m an ugly fucking geek.”

“I would rather not, if it’s all the same to you. Can I please go?” Marcel tried to ask again, but instead of being released, he was on the receiving end of a horrible punch on his cheek. He closed his eyes, trying not to cry out, trying not to give them anything to use against him. He was really glad they hadn’t hit his nose; he knew that they were prone to breaking.

“No, you can’t go! Say what I told you to say!” Marcel resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he did as they asked.

“I’m an ugly fucking geek,” he said quietly.

“Good! Say this; I’m no better than the rest of you, I’m just trash.”

“I’m no better than the rest of you, I’m just trash.” Marcel again repeated the words.

“That’s right! What are you?”

“Trash,” Marcel answered, trying to ignore the stinging pain that came from his tears running over the cut on his cheek.

“Correct answer, geek!” The head bully decided to punch his stomach then. Doubling over in pain, Marcel heard them jeering and laughing as they finally walked away. Once he felt he could move, he got his book (and his glasses, which had flown off when he was punched in the face) and walked to the nearest bathroom to clean up his face.

He used some paper towels and mopped up the blood on his face, hoping that it wouldn’t be too visible to Harry. He knew his brother was still upset about yesterday, and this certainly wouldn’t help anything. It hadn’t developed into a full-on bruise yet, but it still looked pretty bad. He decided to put off looking at his stomach yet, he didn’t feel he could handle it just yet. He returned to his spot in the hallway to wait for Harry, but he decided to walk home instead. They were only a neighborhood over from the school, and Harry only really drove to school instead of walking because he liked being old enough to drive (you would think he’d get over that already, since he’d had his license for nearly two years now).

He trudged out of the school and down the many blocks it took to get home. He started to regret his decision, because he couldn’t stop thinking. He had thought that he was tough enough to ignore the bullies, but maybe he had just started believing them. He certainly felt like trash today.

When he got home, he went straight to his and Harry’s room and buried himself in his covers. He fell asleep, though that had not been his intention.

-

When Marcel woke, he heard Harry slamming the door to their room and dumping his stuff down. Marcel made sure to stay still. Pretending he was asleep was easier than facing Harry just yet.

“Marcel, I know you’re awake. Why didn’t you wait for me? You always wait for me.” Harry sounded hurt, and Marcel felt his chest twinge. “If you really didn’t want to talk about yesterday, I guess we don’t have to talk about it, but you didn’t have to run off.”

Marcel sighed. He kept his face buried in the pillow, but he answered, “I’m sorry. I was just really tired.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Harry sounded really concerned. “You’re still wearing your shoes.” Marcel quickly pulled his foot back under the blanket. Harry was right. He hadn’t taken his shoes off before falling asleep.

“Of course, I’m fine!” Marcel tried to sound reassuring, but Harry narrowed his eyes and came a bit closer. He started to take Marcel’s blanket from him, and Marcel quickly made sure his face was hidden and his shirt was covering his stomach adequately. The blanket gone, Harry looked even more suspicious.

“Show me your face, Marcel.” Harry’s tone booked no argument, but Marcel remained stubborn. Harry moved to roll him over, and despite all his best efforts, Marcel couldn’t stop it. He moved his hands to cover his face, but Harry caught his wrists.

Harry gasped. “What the hell happened?” Marcel kept his face down.

“Nothing, I just ran into a wall. Just a bit clumsy, is all.” Marcel deflected the question.

“Bullshit. It was those bullies again, wasn’t it? Please tell me you at least got a punch in.” Harry’s eyes looked inexplicably teary. Marcel didn’t answer. “Please, _please_ just tell me what happened, Marcel, please.” Unable to withstand the terrifying power of his brother’s teary eyes, Marcel gave him a bit of the truth.

“They just found me reading in the hallway. They said some stuff, pushed me around. That’s it. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t _matter_? Of course it matters! You’re my brother, and you’re wonderful, you don’t deserve to be pushed around!” Marcel found himself getting angry at his brother’s words.

“It doesn’t matter,” he nearly yelled, “because they’re right! I’m just trash! I’m just another nerd who will end up working in a cubicle and wasting away.”

“Is that what you think? Is that what you really think? Because you’re wrong. You’re not trash, you’re amazing. You’re a genius, and you’re going to do amazing things. Those _bastards_ ,” he nearly spit the word out, “are just jealous because they know they’ll end up working at fucking McDonald’s for the rest of their lives. You’re not fucking _trash_ , you’re my brother.”

“Exactly! I’m your brother! You have to be nice to me. You’re biased.” Marcel was really angry now, because Harry just kept _lying_ to him, and he didn’t like it.

“Most kids aren’t nice to their siblings! We’re not normal siblings! I,” here Harry quieted down a bit, “I love you.” He looked at Marcel, and he looked so earnest that Marcel faltered. “You’re amazing, Marcel.”

He fell into Harry, his head on his shoulder, and he started crying. He let it happen. He was too exhausted emotionally to stop himself. Harry seemed like he really meant it, and Marcel was confused. Why would Harry think he was amazing? Sure, he was kind of smart, but Harry was smart too, and he was funny, and beautiful, and sociable, and all around better than Marcel. Compared to Harry, Marcel _was_ just a geek. But if Harry really believed what he was saying, then maybe he wasn’t trash.

Once he had calmed down a bit, Harry lifted his head and placed a soft kiss on his bruise. “Was it just this, or did they hit you anywhere else?” Marcel wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Harry, but his brother was bound to find out sometime anyway. He lifted his shirt to show the other bruise, watching as Harry’s eyes flashed with – something, then what looked oddly like guilt.

After a pause, Harry bent down and placed another soft kiss on the bruise on his stomach. He looked back up at Marcel’s face and asked quietly, “Anywhere else?’ Marcel felt something stomping around in his stomach, but he answered anyway.

“I’m not sure. I might have a bruise on my leg, they kicked me a bit.” Harry began to slowly unbutton Marcel’s pants and pull down the zipper, and as he followed Harry’s prompting to lift up a bit so he could slide his pants off his legs, Marcel decided that he felt very strange indeed. His heart seemed to be getting crushed and flying away at the same time, and his stomach had more than butterflies. It felt more like elephants were having a party.

Harry found a small bruise on Marcel’s leg, a couple inches above his knee, where one of the bullies had kicked him. He wrapped his hand around the side of Marcel’s thigh, brushed his thumb over the bruise, and kissed it gently. He left his hand there, but looked up at Marcel again.

“Marcel. When I said I love you, I-“ he broke off. He made a strange noise in his throat, but continued, “I know you’re my brother, but I _really_ love you.”

Confused, Marcel asked, “Like… you have feelings for me?” His cheeks were surely flaming red by now. He felt like his whole face was on fire (not just the bruise). Harry was blushing too.

“Yeah. I know I’m not supposed to, or whatever, but I love you. Plain and simple. You’re amazing, and sometimes I feel terribly guilty because I want to do filthy things to you.” He trailed off at the end, mumbling that last bit, but Marcel caught it all the same. He couldn’t believe it.

“Why on earth would you like me? I’m not _appealing_ or anything.” He was genuinely confused as to why Harry would like him that way. He could do so much better. Even if he wasn’t trash, even if he was better than those bullies like Harry said he was, Harry could still do so much better.

Harry looked at him in disbelief. “I’ve just told you, my _brother_ , that I have feelings for you, and the first thing you think of is that you’re not good enough for me? Which you are, by the way, too good for me, probably, but shouldn’t the bigger issue here be our shared genetics? Or the fact that I’m a boy and I don’t even know if you’re gay?”

“No.” Marcel shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m gay or straight or whatever, until now, I’ve just been dormant, I guess. And I don’t care that you’re my brother. I think I’ve always known that we’re closer than other brothers are, and this would just prove me right, right? I just don’t know if you really mean that or if you’re going to get tired of me really quickly or not.”

“Marcel,” Harry said in a very dry sort of tone, “I’ve shared a room with you for the past eighteen or so years of my life. Don’t you think that if I was going to get tired of you, I’d have done it by now?”

Marcel let out a small laugh. “I guess you’re right.” He shifted, then: “I think I might be gay, actually, if my body’s reaction to your hand’s placement is any indication.” Harry’s hand had drifted slightly up past mid-thigh, and sure enough, Marcel’s cock had hardened a bit. He was embarrassed about the bulge, given that Harry still was below eye-level and he couldn’t exactly hide it.

Harry removed his hand and shifted up to straddle Marcel’s lap, keeping eye contact as Marcel realized that his brother was also having a similar reaction.

“Will you let me love you, Marcel?” Harry sounded very serious, but when Marcel nodded, he beamed. He took off Marcel’s glasses, and his shirt soon followed. Harry leaned down and kissed his collarbone. Marcel helped Harry shed his clothes too, and they were soon both in their briefs. Harry again climbed atop Marcel.

Marcel was unsure what he was supposed to do. He was also still a bit dazed that he was actually here, in this position with his brother. He had been a bit oblivious, he supposed, looking back. Now that it had occurred to him, he was very open to the idea of a relationship with Harry. Harry had always been there for him, as his best friend and confidante. It would have been a bit vain to say Harry was beautiful, because they looked nearly the same and Marcel knew he wasn’t anything special, but Harry was beautiful.

Harry leaned in and kissed his cheek again. “I wish I had been there to defend you. God knows you won’t do it yourself.” He brushed his lips against Marcel’s, and Marcel pressed against him harder. Harry was surprised at Marcel’s boldness, given his usual state of shyness, but then their clothed cocks brushed and he moaned into Marcel’s mouth. He wanted to – he pulled back and shifted down. He kissed Marcel’s collarbone again, nipping it this time. He spent a bit of time licking at his brother’s nipples, then moved again to the bruise on his stomach, kissing it softly.

“You’re acting like your kisses have healing power,” Marcel noted. Harry smiled up at him.

“Don’t they?” He added another kiss with his cheeky smile, then moved lower to mouth at Marcel’s cock through his briefs. Marcel moaned in shock and pleasure. He had never even masturbated, since he felt like his time would be better spent doing his schoolwork, but if it was even one tenth as nice as this felt, he might have to try it sometime.

Harry looked up at Marcel and asked, “Can I suck your cock?” Marcel could only nod. Harry pulled his briefs down and held him in his hand as he licked from the base to the head, then slid his mouth down onto his brother’s cock. Marcel was entirely incoherent by this point, and only Harry’s hands on his hips stopped him from thrusting into his mouth. Harry kept at it, yet it was over far too soon. Marcel spilled into his mouth, and Harry did his best to swallow, but some ended up on his face as he pulled off.

Once Marcel was able to, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come so quickly, or in your mouth.” He was still recovering from his first orgasm, but he knew enough to know that it wasn’t necessarily okay to come in someone’s mouth.

Harry leaned up. “Trust me, I’m okay with it.” He kissed Marcel then, and Marcel could taste what he assumed was his come in Harry’s mouth. He returned the kiss. He knew Harry was still hard, and he didn’t feel like he was done either.

“Harry, will you fuck me?” He said it as quickly as he could, and he was blushing again. He didn’t understand how he could still feel embarrassed when his brother had just blown him, but he was.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, “You could just jerk me off. We don’t have to fuck yet.”

Marcel nodded. “I’m sure. Just be careful.”

“Of course.” Harry kissed him gently. “I’ll never hurt you, Marcel. Never.” He got something out of his bedside table and returned to Marcel’s bed. “How much do you know about how two guys have sex?”

“I know the general logistics of it. Lube, prep, proper stretching and all that.”

“How do you know? Just curious.” Harry asked.

“I… read it in an advanced textbook on human anatomy and sexuality, if you must know.”

“Where the hell did you get _that_ textbook?”

“Not the school library, if that’s what you’re thinking. I read it when I was at that college I visited a couple weeks ago.”

Harry stared at him. “You visit a college campus and you spend your time in the library?”

“The library is the most important part, Harry.” Marcel gave Harry a very serious look.

“Whatever you say, darling.” Harry dipped his fingers in the lube and pushed one into Marcel slowly, beginning to prepare him.

“Well that’s… interesting,” Marcel remarked. He started to adjust to the feeling of having something in his arse, and as Harry added another finger and started to stretch him, he decided to reserve judgment. It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t amazing.

After another finger, Marcel asked him to just get on with it.

“Alright,” Harry said, “If you’re sure.” Marcel nodded, and Harry put on the condom he had grabbed from his drawer. He leaned down and kissed Marcel, then slowly began to push in.

Other than the initial pain, Marcel decided that he did, in fact, like this. It wasn’t necessarily the ‘having something large in his arse’ bit that he liked, but simply the knowledge that Harry was _inside_ him made him flush all over and want more. Harry settled as he finally pushed in fully, and he paused to give Marcel time to adjust. He looked at his brother’s face, and while he felt amazing at the feeling of being inside Marcel, tight and warm and _wonderful_ , it was nothing compared to the happiness he felt when he saw the bliss on his brother’s face. Marcel’s mouth was hanging open, but you could see the smile.

Harry bent down and kissed Marcel, not softly this time, but he tried as hard as he could to pour his happiness and love into it, hoping that Marcel could feel that. Marcel smiled into the kiss, and laughed.

“Is something funny?” Harry smiled, wondering why Marcel was laughing.

“I’m just so _happy_.” Marcel answered, still giggling a bit. Harry smiled softly at him.

“Me too.” Harry began to move, slowly so he wouldn’t hurt him. Marcel groaned when he felt Harry sliding in and out of him. He was overwhelmed that this was even happening, his brain was shorting ( _traitor_ ), and he was having a lot of trouble forming coherent thoughts. All he could do was focus on Harry’s cock, the way his had hardened again, and Harry’s hand holding his.

Then Harry shifted his hips and changed the angle a bit, and he felt something odd. Very, _very_ good, no question about that, but odd. _That must be the prostate,_ he thought, having read about it. After a few more thrusts, he found himself suddenly coming again. He hadn’t expected it that soon, but when he came, Harry came soon after. They stayed still for a moment, breathing, before Harry pulled out and went about disposing of the condom.

Marcel began to feel sleepy, but he was sticky and needed to clean up before he could sleep. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, expecting to get some napkins or something to clean himself up, but when he tried to stand up, the combination of the twinge in his backside and how utterly weak his legs felt made him sit back down.

Harry came back over with some wet paper towels and helped him clean up. “Do you want to sleep in my bed with me? Your bed is kind of… soaked in sweat.” Marcel nodded sleepily and Harry helped him over to his bed. After Harry turned off the light, they curled up together. Marcel laughed suddenly. Slightly alarmed, Harry asked, “What?”

“It just occurred to me that we are really lucky the parents were out tonight,” Marcel explained.

Harry smiled at him and kissed his forehead. “You’re right. Now go to sleep, silly. I love you.” Marcel smiled and leaned into his brother’s chest.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the crappy bits. Don't hate me.


End file.
